


Bruised Violets

by orphan_account



Series: Bruised Violets [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Michelle Jones, Civil War (Marvel), Gen, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Michelle Jones-centric, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, POV Michelle Jones, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Protective Pepper Potts, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michelle Jones thought of herself as cool and collected. She knew how to take care of herself. Until she started sticking to walls. Now she's getting roped into the latest superhero drama, when all she wants to do is keep her head down and her grades up. But she can handle this.Right?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Cindy Moon, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bruised Violets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638718
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. All Twisted Up with Mine

Michelle Jones understood who she was. Even if she didn’t like it, she knew what kind of person she was. She was cool, in that laid-back, holier-than-thou way. Sure, it sometimes hurt her intrapersonal relationships to adopt the air she did, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Because what were friends for, anyway? She could make it through high school without friends, and before she knew it she would be in college. Then she could triple-major in whatever she wanted, and that would keep her plenty busy. Friends would just hold her back, and Michelle was not the kind to be held back by anyone.

She had a few acquaintances and a few hangers-on who just wanted to bask in the light that was Michelle for a moment. Because Michelle was cool, and not in that desperate, trying to make up for personal failings way. No, Michelle was cool effortlessly. She didn’t need to pay people to worship her like Flash did because they would simply flock to her. Her followers ate lunch with her and complimented her clothes and books, and sometimes, when they were smaller, they had sleepovers and watched Clueless. Cindy and Sally and Betty said they were friends, but Michelle knew the truth. They saw her in the hallways and waved, and that was all Michelle needed.She was a member of the Academic Decathlon team, and she always had someone to sit on the bus with. She wasn’t lonely, because she didn’t need more than she had. 

Michelle craved power and respect, and she knew she couldn’t get that if she let other people get to know her. People only respect those they fear. Get to know someone closely, and they lose all power over you. And Michelle was a girl, so no one was ever going to respect her if they saw her as weak. As a girl, she could never let her facade of strength fall down, could never admit, even to herself, that it was a facade. Michelle could have gone her whole life without changing had it not been for Ned Leeds.

See, sometime in sophomore year, Ned had decided that he was going to be friends with Michelle Jones. And not in the way the other kids were friends with her. He was going to find out everything about her, and spend time with her, and get to know her. Maybe it was because they had so many classes together that year, or maybe it was just because that was the kind of person Ned was.

Ned was everything Michelle hated and everything she wanted to be. He was perfectly content just the way he was, with a personality as large as his body mass. He always carried around at least one LEGO minifigure in his pocket at any given time and could happily talk for hours about the latest development superhero news, or the latest Stark Industries product. He had news alerts on his phone for over twenty superheroes and vigilantes in and around the New York City metro area, and his most prized possession was a framed selfie of him and the Black Widow, which hung above his bed like a shrine to Jesus. 

But he listened to her when she talked about her favorite books, and didn’t make fun of any of her music preferences. He let her make mistakes and helped her fix them, rather than making fun of her. He expected nothing from their friendship that she wasn’t willing to give, and before she knew it, she was spending her weekends with him, going to used bookstores and spending more of her babysitting money then she really should on comics. Suddenly she had opinions on Iron Man and Captain America, Hulk, Black Widow, and Thor. She looked forward to Academic Decathlon competitions because she got to spend time with Ned and because she got to compete with Ned. They each tried to score more points than the other. Ned didn’t care when Michelle was better than him, but he was also smarter than he let on. He knew about computer programming and chemistry, but Michelle’s knowledge of literature, history, and politics was formidable, if she did say so herself. And she did say so, because she felt confident enough to compliment herself.

Before she knew it, Ned had given her a nickname, and she responded to MJ as much as she responded to Michelle. And soon, Ned was pestering her to spend time with one of his nerd friends, Peter Parker. Peter was one of those nerds who collected action figures, despite the fact that he was sixteen years old, and who signed up for every academic activity the school offered. He played the oboe and was a member of the robotics team. Plus, Ned bragged, he’d come in second for Forensics at the state’s Science Olympiad competition in freshman year. 

If you’d asked MJ if she would have been friends with Peter before Ned wormed his way into her life, she wouldn’t have even bothered to give you a laugh. She would have asked you what sort of sad, meaningless person you took her for, and then she would have blocked you from all of her social media platforms just to spite you.

But, instead, she spent more and more time with Peter and Ned. She got into D & D and Magic the Gathering, and could quote Prequel Memes like the best of them. She realized how far she’d fallen when she was on her third hour of waiting in line to listen to a panel with both Steve Rogers and Tony Stark on it. Ned and Peter had been talking about going for months. They’d been so excited that MJ couldn’t have turned down their offer without feeling bad about it for weeks. Ned’s dad and Peter’s Aunt May had said they needed an adult chaperone, but had then decided that MJ was intimidating enough to protect the three of them. MJ had appreciated that.

If you had asked a fifteen year old MJ where she would be in a year, she would have told you she would be in the exact same place. Cool and above the rest of humanity. And, deep inside, lonelier than she could ever admit. She promised herself she didn’t need friends because the idea of getting close to anyone else terrified her. She felt secure in her little bubble, telling herself she was fine on her own. But here she was, a year later, waiting outside on a sweat-soaked mid-May day, unseasonably warm for New York City, waiting to hear a couple middle-aged men talk about beating up aliens. She laughed as Ned showed her a meme on his phone and Peter teased her about something inconsequential.

MJ felt good, better than she ever had, if she was being honest. She knew the codes to get into both Ned and Peter’s apartments, and they could get into hers just as easily. She felt safe around them. She could tell them anything without worrying that they were going to see her differently. Her life was good.

At least it would have been, had it not been for that fucking spider.


	2. And So It Begins

It all started with the trip to Oscorp. MJ hadn’t even wanted to go. She’d had a persistent cold for a few days, and she needed to catch up on her AP US History notes. Her class was finally talking about Reconstruction, and MJ was always a sucker for sweeping societal changes. But Ned and Peter had been so excited about the trip.

“MJ, this company is history in the making,” Ned said, looking up at her and fake batting his eyelashes. “Oscorp’s on the forefront of everything awesome. Cloning, genetic modification, they’ve done it all.

“I bet you could even find an intern to debate with,” Peter added, nudging MJ in the side with his boney little elbow. “I know you like a good ethical debate. And Oscorp’s done all sorts of shady stuff!”

“Are you trying to convince me or dissuade me here?” MJ laughed and took a bite of popcorn. “Because this is a pretty terrible sell. And I’m including that time Peter tried to say that Mario was a chaotic evil character when ranking your arguments.”

“Okay, first off,” Peter said, “I stand by my previous statement: no moral alignment fits Mario better than chaotic evil. We’ve already been over the specifics, so if you’re not convicted yet, nothing’s going to show you the light. But, MJ, I really think you’d like the trip.”

“Please,” Ned pleaded, “I’ll let you pick movie night for the next month.”

“You guys know I was going to come along the whole time, right?” MJ said. “And, Ned, I’m totally holding you to the movie arrangement.”

And so she was stuck tagging behind Ned and Peter as they gawked and pointed, fawning over every display case and flashing truly awful peace signs for MJ’s flashing camera. The guide, a red-faced intern with matching hair, smiled as she pointed out the rare spider specimens some Oscorp scientist had probably picked up in a part of the jungle they weren’t supposed to be in.

The intern, whose name was Kirsten and who seemed like the kind of girl Peter would fall head-over-heels in love with for about a week, smiled as Ned asked about the tensile strength of the spiders’ webs. MJ reached out towards the glass. It was cold on her fingers. Suddenly, she felt a pinch on the back of her hand.

It hurt like hell. It was just what she imagined shots felt like when she was in elementary school and terrified of needles. The burn spread through her hand, racing through her veins. She yelped and pulled her hand towards her chest.

“Oh! Are you okay?” The intern asked, turning towards MJ, who had lagged behind the rest of the group.

“Yeah, it's fine,” MJ said. She rubbed the back of her hand, where a nasty red welt was forming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spider run across the glass away from her. She knocked it off the glass and smashed it beneath her boot. She was probably costing Oscorp a lot of money, but they were a multinational corporation. Probably deserved a lot more, right?

“If you need anything, feel free to ask me! I’m always here!” Kirsten smiled, pointing towards her nametag. “Just ask for Kirsten.”

“I kinda got that.”

That would have been the end of it. MJ wished it had been the end, and she could have gone on with the rest of her life like nothing ever happened. But she was never that lucky.

It began benignly enough. She woke up feeling good, fresh and ready for the morning. Unusual, sure, but MJ wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to actually be awake for her first three class periods. But then she remembered that she had gone to bed with a cold the night before. And now she was completely fine. In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks, months even.

Her stepmom had beaten her downstairs, so MJ popped a bagel in the toaster before giving her a peck on the cheek and saying hello to her little stepsister. MJ stuffed her folders into her backpack, quickly packed a lunch for her sister and her stepmom, who worked as a nurse, and rushed out to catch her train to school. If she got to school early enough, she might be able to find a minute to read in the library before her first period. She had been racing through all of Patricia Highsmith’s novels for a couple weeks now, and she was really enjoying them. Reading might be a nice way to cool off for the day, she thought, as she made her way up to the subway station.

Once she got there, MJ hung out a few feet back from the platform. There was no one else waiting for the train, so she pulled out her phone to check the news, maybe read an obituary in the New York Times. Her dad had gotten her a subscription for her sixteen birthday, and she was going to make everything she could out of it. 

Without warning, someone bumped into her. He was wearing a business suit, his hair slicked-back in a real bought-his-way-into-Harvard style. He apologized and MJ flipped him off. She went to look back at her phone, and realized that she’d dropped it. Except, she hadn’t dropped it. It was still attached to her hand but dangling a few inches below her palm, attached with some sort of sticky white residue.

MJ tried to get it off, panicking as she realized the stuff was coming out of her skin. MJ wanted to say that she’d calmly reacted without making a scene. But that just wasn’t the case. Instead, MJ had a panic attack in a New York City subway bathroom with a rat staring into her soal with his cold, dead, lifeless eyes. 

Eventually, her phone clattered to the floor and MJ’s chest stopped feeling like it was stuck in a vice grip. She took a shaky breath and checked her watch. She still had plenty of time to get to school. She was fine. She slipped her phone into her backpack, straightened her shirt, and stepped back out to wait by the platform. MJ had probably just imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was the residual effects of the cold. 

Over the next couple weeks she began noticing more changes to her body. She started gaining muscle mass, despite her total lack of exercise. She lost weight, but she looked exactly the same as she had before. Her next doctor’s appointment was going to be a real bitch to explain. 

She didn’t want to ever have to deal with the changes, but then she realized that she couldn’t freak out in school or around her family. She had to figure out these new mutant changes happening to her body before someone else did.

So, some days, after she’d dropped her stepsister off at her reading circle or that little kid swim class her stepmom had signed her up for, MJ would take the opportunity to walk through a back alley and try to lift a couple dumpsters, just to see if she could. (She could). She learned that if she just relaxed, the sticky residue on her hands would go away, and, slowly, MJ got everything back under control.

MJ hadn’t told Ned and Peter about what was happening to her. But it wasn’t really important. If she played her cards right, she could get everything under wraps without anyone ever knowing anything. It was really the best for everyone that way.

MJ tried not to think about that as she waited in line with Ned and Peter to listen to some superheroes wax poetic about their plan to save the world. A little girl, who had the same round face and curly hair as MJ’s stepsister, walked past MJ and her friends, laughing as she clutched onto her mother’s arm.

MJ asked Ned and Peter to hold her place in the line as she walked over to the restrooms. She was drying her hands when she heard the first scream. 

No one would ever have needed to know about MJ’s powers. But Michelle Jones wasn’t a coward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It feels really good to be writing again. I haven't really been up to writing anything recently because school's been hectic, but I had my wisdom teeth out this week, so I've been stuck at home. No better time than that to get back to writing, right? It feels really great to be back, so I'll hopefully be updating every day for the next couple days, and then once every couple of days after that.


	3. I'd Rather Eat Glass

MJ’s breath shook as she crouched behind a column. She pulled her hoodie out of her backpack and slipped it on, tightening the straps so that her face was hidden. She ducked out from behind the column and saw two armed gunmen. Dressed in black and purple, prowling through the halls with guns in their hands and weapons stashed up and down their backs.

One of the gunmen grabbed the little girl who looked like MJ’s sister by the hair. The girl screamed. MJ flung her wrist out, sticky webbing hitting the man on the side of his head. It wasn’t planned. Propelled by instinct alone, she jumped towards the man. The webbing pulled her forwards and she knocked the gunman on his back.

She picked up the girl as the other man ran towards her. She shot her webbing towards the ceiling without looking, praying she would hit something. There was a sudden jerk on her wrist and she was flying through the air. She hit the glass railing of the upper level of the conference hall and pulled herself over it, lying on her back for a minute. The girl, who was so small she seemed like she could dance on the head of a needle, was sobbing. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving wet, red patchy lines down her face. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” MJ said. “It’s going to be okay. Got it? I’ll make sure it's okay.”

“Yeah, okay.” The girl hiccuped and rubbed her face with her chubby hands before looking up at MJ. 

“What I need you to do is hide behind that pillar.” MJ pointed to a tall white beam of metal that jutted up through the landing to the ceiling. “I want you to go back there, close your eyes, and count as high as you possibly can. When it's safe I’ll come and get you. Alright?”

“Alright, Spiderwoman,” the girl said. She was still crying, but she calmed down enough that MJ could hear her away from the edge of the platform. MJ was about to tell the girl that her name wasn’t Spiderwoman when she heard a huff of breath behind her.

The two gunmen had run up the stairs behind her. The first ripped the webbing off his face and lurched towards MJ. She stumbled back, grabbing the railing. Everything inside her told her to run. But she couldn’t leave that girl alone.

Before the gunmen had time to react, MJ ran towards them and kicked the second gunmen as hard as she could in the groin. He groaned and fell backwards. While he was distracted, she took the chance to push him over the ledge. There was a sickening crash as he fell into a table below. Someone shrieked, and MJ took a moment to look at him. He twitched on the ground, his leg in a position it most certainly was not meant to be in.

The other gunman looked at MJ before running as fast as he could away from her. MJ would have gone after him but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shiny red and yellow figure. There was the buzz of electronics and the rush of air indicative of repulsors, and then none other than Iron Man was standing in front of her. 

“Not bad, kid,” he said. “Steve should grab that guy before he gets away. Don’t worry about him. Right now, I’m more concerned with who you are.” MJ stood there, her mouth gaping like a fish. “Right, so I see you’re not a talker. That’s okay. Let’s start with something easy. What’s your name?”

A little voice piped up behind her. “Her name’s Spiderwoman!”

“What are you doing here?” MJ asked. “I thought I told you to hide.”

“You told me to count as far as I could, and I got to seventy-nine, but then I ran out of numbers, and I peaked around the corner, and Iron Man was there,” the little girl said. 

“Fine, I guess that makes sense. How about, now that the bad men are gone, you get Iron Man here to help you find your mother?” MJ nudged the girl towards the man in the truly gaudy get-up.

“Do you really think he’d do that for me?” She asked. 

“I’m sure he would,” MJ said, giving the girl the biggest smile she could afford. She gave Iron Man a pointed look. He shrugged and picked the girl up.

“What does your mom look like?” He asked her before turning towards MJ. “Hey, before I go, I just have to say, if you ever want any help with your whole superhero thing, you know where to find me. I’m sure Widow would love to meet you.”

“I’ll think about it,” MJ said as she gave Iron Man and the girl an awkward little wave. They flew away, the girl chatting a mile a minute the whole time. 

Suddenly, MJ was aware of the other people in the conference hall. Everywhere she turned, there were people. With phones, recorders, cameras. Flashes and voices everywhere. And all MJ had to protect herself was a well-worn black hoodie. 

She ran towards the stairwell opposite the one the men had come out of and scrambled down the stairs. She had to get away. She kept running until she found a back alley. No one else was there, so she slipped the hoodie off and threw it in the nearest dumpster. She couldn’t have anyone find out her dirty little secret. 

She took a minute to lean against the alley wall and think about what had just happened. She’d actually beaten up a man with a gun. She’d been terrified the whole time, but that little girl was with her mom now. This was a story the girl could tell her friends at school and write essays about in middle school. And MJ felt good about that.

She made her way back to Ned and Peter in the line. They were both ecstatic about what had happened. 

“MJ! You missed it! These crazy dudes came in, and then this woman arrived, and shot them with this white stuff, and also maybe flew, and then this guy hit a table!” Ned said in a singular breath. “It was so awesome!”

“It’s so sad that you weren’t here! Flash is going to be so jealous!” Peter said, shaking with excitement.

“I’m sure he will be, guys.”

“Come on, how do you think this isn’t awesome?” Ned asked.

“We’ve been over this before. I’m too cool for your nonsense. Also, I didn’t see it. No proof, I don’t believe in it.”

“Oh come on, MJ,” Peter said, “this’ll be all over YouTube tomorrow. How cool is that? Maybe we’ll even make it into the background of some videos! That would be so cool.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” MJ said. But inside she was panicking. Because people had definitely taken videos of her. And, soon, they would be all over the internet. She would be online forever.


	4. Rockerchick

Spiderwoman was the talk of the town. Everywhere MJ turned, she saw pictures of herself. It made the nightly news that first day, a woman with a beehive hairdo and a heavy layer of bronzer and eyeshadow talking all about the heroism of New York’s own citizens, and, within hours, Spiderwoman was all over Reddit, YouTube, Instagram. MJ’s grandmother reposted a picture praising Spiderwoman on her Facebook page. MJ couldn’t escape the chatter. Ned and Peter insisted that the three of them spend hours trying to uncover Spiderwoman’s identity. MJ laughed and said it was probably just a PR stunt for the Avengers or the NYPD, but inside she was shaken to her core. She was terrified that someone would find her. Her goal for each day was to go for at least two hours without passing out from nerves.

But then the buzz died down, and everything returned to normal. When Spiderwoman didn’t reappear, people began to forget about her. Sure, there were still pictures online, and countless messageboards up online, trying to figure out her identity, but there was no consensus. No one had questioned MJ. She was fine.

Except, there was this itch inside her. Some little part of her, some part bigger than she would like to admit, liked the feeling of helping that little girl. She’d been so small, had looked so much like MJ’s little sister. 

When MJ’s father and her stepmom, Madeline, first brought the squealing bundle of blankets through the door, MJ hadn’t known what to think. MJ was eleven, far too old, in her opinion, to have to deal with a baby. And Gayle had been kind of gross, a squirming, red-faced creature wrapped up in fluffy pink blankets.

But MJ had eventually gotten used to Gayle because she had to. And then she’d started to think that Gayle was kind of cute, even if it was gross when she spit-up baby food on herself. As the years went on, MJ started to like Gayle. If anyone looked sideways at her, they had MJ to answer to.

MJ had always been protective of the people she loved. She used to think that was a character flaw, that she cared so deeply. She stifled the feeling and crushed it down so that it wouldn’t bubble up inside. But that was then, and this was now. MJ wanted to protect her sister, and she wanted to protect that girl at the conference, wanted to protect her friends, her family, everyone she could.

It was almost coincidental that MJ ended up at the Goodwill. Her stepmom had asked her to grab some t-shirts from the store. They were repainting the apartment, and they didn’t want to have to spend hours scrubbing paint out of their clothes. She walked down the aisle, running her hands along the aisles and picking up the cheapest shirts she could. 

And then she saw it. It was a deep red, like cherries or beetroot. The fabric was soft, breathable, but thick. It was a long-sleeve sweatshirt. MJ picked it up, ran it over her fingers. She told herself it would be a bad idea to buy it, but she couldn’t help herself. She knew she would be tempted to slip it on and call herself the Spiderwoman, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

It would be dangerous to give in to the temptation. She had to maintain control. She couldn’t keep her tight grasp on life if she left so many variables open. Her disguise could slip, she could be injured. Anything could happen.

MJ placed the sweatshirt in her basket and walked to the checkout. She paid for the shirts and walked to the subway to get home. She found an open seat near the back of the car and rested her hand on the sweatshirt in her bag. There was so much power in such a small thing, and it scared her.

The sweatshirt only remained in her closet for a week before MJ slipped it on in front of the mirror. She put on the balaklava her father had bought for their disastrous ski trip last winter. An old white paint pen, left from some middle school poster years ago, shook in her hand as she drew the outline of a spider on her mask and on her chest. 

Her family was out for the night at some children’s event at the library. There was no one there to stop her. MJ slowly cracked open the bedroom window, looking around to make sure no one could see her. When she was absolutely sure the coast was clear, she crept up the wall until she was standing on the roof. She looked around. It was dusk, and the city was hers.

* * *

The wind rushed past MJ’s face. Her cheeks stung, and her hair was flying out of her tight bun. MJ was happy.

Over the last few weeks, MJ had gotten the hang of being Spiderwoman. She now knew how to control her powers, how to fling her webbing just the right way to fly through the air like a bird, how to use her strength to incapacitate a mugger without killing them, how to pinpoint the sound of a child’s scream through the cacophony of giggles, honks, clinks, and whistles that made up the city.

Being Spiderwoman had MJ feel happy. It made her feel anxious as well, nervous deep in her bones, but there was a rush in helping others that MJ didn’t think she could find anywhere else. And, if she was being honest, MJ loved the feeling of swinging over the city. It put everything in perspective, being so high up. 

MJ smiled as she raced up to the top of a local building. It was one of her favorite spots, high enough that it was quiet, but not high enough that it was unbearably windy or cold. She rested on the side of the building, listening to the sounds of a city below. 

Suddenly, MJ heard a scuffle and a cry below, and she shot off into the sky after the sound. She smiled. It felt good. Finally, everything felt right. 


	5. Pictures I Don't Wanna Explain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been stuck at home because my school's closed for coronavirus. Plus, I've been getting some really nice comments on this fic. So I've decided to keep writing!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you're staying safe, healthy, and happy in these stressful times!

Here’s what happened: MJ had been bitten by a weird-ass spider. She’d developed superpowers. She’d saved a little girl at a convention. She’d become a vigilante, and then she’d become a minor internet sensation.

It had started with the videos. People would film her when she went out at night as Spiderwoman, doing acts of heroism and generally being a pretty cool person. They’d all upload their videos to YouTube, where the majority would garner a couple dozen views before being forgotten about. They might get a few comments, or someone might repost it on Reddit, or someone might include it in a conspiracy video about the Avengers. Sometimes MJ would search the internet to find them, and she could never stop herself from reading the comments on the videos. Most of them were kind, thanking the vigilante for her work, or saying how cool one of her acrobatic moves was. But, invariably, there’d be someone making a gross comment about her body, and MJ would spend her time out that night conscious of the places her costume fit snugly.

But, importantly, none of the videos ever made a significant impact on the internet. Until the sheer volume of videos began to matter. Then a video went viral. Suddenly, MJ was getting Spiderwoman articles recommended to her school email account, and her school’s morning news show had a weekly update on Spiderwoman, full of Comic Sans and terrible graphics.

MJ wasn’t too concerned about the videos. Weeks before, she would have been absolutely crippled by anxiety about the public exposure, but her time spent as Spiderwoman was helping her more than she ever could have realized. She had an outlet for her frustration and anger, and she felt relaxed. It was almost funny. She felt more like a normal person as a vigilante than as a civilian teenage girl.

So MJ wasn’t concerned by the viral videos. She didn’t like the way people talked about her, sometimes, but she’d been through worse. She could deal with it. Peter and Ned, though, always seemed to throw a wrench in her plans.

The three of them were sitting in the hallway outside of the cafeteria. Peter was surreptitiously stealing Ned’s fries and leaning against a locker, scrolling through his phone.

“God, I can’t believe Dr. Gillian’s giving us two Chemistry tests back-to-back. He could have at least waited a day or two between them. Like, who does that?” Ned complained. 

“Well, neither of you are taking AP Lit this year, so I don’t think you should be complaining,” MJ said. “Ms. Deech makes us write an essay every week.”

“Peter? What do you think?” Ned asked. “Which is worse? Chemistry or AP Lit?”

“Hmm?” Peter looked up from his phone.

“Were you even listening?” MJ asked, eating a carefully portioned bite of trail mix.

“Uh, yeah. Totally. I agree with MJ.”

“What was the conversation about?” Ned asked, eyeing Peter skeptically.

Peter looked at Ned and MJ for a moment, clearly searching for something to say. “Politics?” He guessed.

“Nice try, nerd,” MJ said. “What are you even doing on your phone?”

“I’ve been trying to find Spiderwoman on here.”

“What makes you think she’s online?” MJ asked, trying to act casual.

“Well, she’s about our age, right? Give or take ten-ish years?” Ned and MJ nodded. “So she’s got to be pretty young, and no one our age has managed to evade the internet. Plus, sooner or later, she’ll probably make an account, just for PR. You know, control the image and everything?”

“Can’t you do your weird internet stalking in your free time? I thought we made a rule about fangirling over superheroes without the rest of the group,” MJ said.

“Yeah, we totally made that rule. After the Hawkeye incident,” Ned added.

“We agreed to never discuss that,” MJ and Peter said in unison.

“Then put your phone away.” Peter stuck his tongue out at Ned, but begrudgingly slipped his phone in his back pocket.

Their conversation continued as usual, but MJ couldn’t stop thinking about what Peter had said. Control the image. Let Spiderwoman tell the world what to think of Spiderwoman.

That night, MJ lay awake in bed, staring at her phone on the bedside table. She knew it was a bad idea, but her hand twitched. Finally, her resolve broke and she opened her phone. She went to the Instagram app, clicked the button to make a new profile. 

She tried to keep it simple. Not too many embellishments. A simple profile picture, a picture of the city skyline she’d taken one night when out in costume. Her first post was a selfie she’d taken with an old woman who’d bought her a churro for finding her cat. The woman had been so thankful. Apparently her cat had to be back to take his kidney medicine, and the woman had been worried out of her mind about him. MJ thought the churro was delicious.

MJ silenced her phone and turned over in her bed. There was no going back now. Spiderwoman had been established online.

The next morning, when MJ grabbed her phone, it was flooded with messages. Her DMs were filled with people asking if she was the real Spiderwoman, and her comments were filled with equal parts people enthused with seeing Spiderwoman online and with people angry that the account had dared to pretend to be Spiderwoman.

But there was on DM that stopped MJ dead in her tracks. She had to check the account several times to make sure it was real, and she still believed that she was hallucinating. It had to be a cruel, cruel prank. There, in her DMs, was a message from none other than Pepper Potts, CEO and resident badass of Stark Industries.

MJ read the message under her breath. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. What time are you available to come to Avengers Tower?”

She was available at five that day. She was going to meet Pepper Potts at five. She wished she could tell Ned and Peter.


End file.
